Report
by Roadstergal
Summary: A few small vignettes set at various points in the series. The first one is set before Season One.
1. Chapter 1

Blue for maths. Yellow for star charts. Green for the intersection of the two - applied equational navigation. It would be _perfect_. With a chart this harmonically balanced, color-wise, revision would be a snap. Yes, he would be able to revise _properly_, this time. After that, pass the exam, become an officer - and then, nothing to keep him from going up the ziggurat, lickety-split. Up just like his brothers - and why not farther than them? Yes, his time spent at the bottom would give him a unique insight into... well, into something that had eluded his brothers, and whatever it was, it would jolly well make him a better officer! Like Henry... whichever Henry it was who dressed like one of his troops. And had that fabulous To Be speech. Rimmer pulled out his green marker and started to color in the square painstakingly. 

He had just gotten to the right edge when the door opened, spitting a drunk Lister into the room - a drunk Lister who was bawling a bawdy song at the top of his lungs. Rimmer twitched, and the green marker ran into the yellow square.

"Lister!" Rimmer yelled, leaping to his feet and throwing the green marker onto the table in frustration. "You've ruined it, you smegging rat-testicled git!"

Lister paused in his singing, looking at Rimmer with confused and blurry eyes. "Whu?"

"Don't 'whu' me!" Rimmer yelled, spitting in his fury. "You ruined my revision timetable!"

Lister craned his neck, looking at the table that he could not possibly focus on properly. "Nah. Yeh ruined it yerself." He raised a middle finger and stumbled towards his bunk.

"Do you know the penalty for flipping a superior officer the bird?" Rimmer declared haughtily. He was terribly irritated about the ruin of his beautiful timetable - he'd have to start over from the very beginning, and it had taken him three days to get as far along as he had before Lister had ruined it. But if there was one thing that was guaranteed to make him feel better when something had gotten him down, it was to put Lister on report. He walked over to his own bunk and fished his notebook out from under his pillow, dodging Lister's waving legs as the twonk struggled to reach his upper bunk.

"Rimmer..." Lister sighed, dropping back to the ground. "Yeh write me up all the smegging time, and Todhunter just ignores it. Why do yeh waste yer time..."

"It is not a waste of time, miladdio!" Rimmer said, starting to write the details of the incident into his book. "Just because Todhunter does not have the vision to..."

The book disappeared from Rimmer's hands. He jerked his head around in time to see Lister's bum disappear through the door. He had stolen Rimmer's book! And now he was taking it smeg knew where! "Lister!" Rimmer yelled as he ran through the door to give chase. "Do you know the penalty for stealing a superior technician's report book? You're on..." he had to pause to suck in a breath - this was more running than he was used to! "You're on report, miladdio!"


	2. Green

**A/N: This is set between Seasons Four and Five.**

Rimmer looked in the mirror at his green uniform, feeling twinges of dissatisfaction. It was very dashing, yes, and quite a manly color - but he couldn't help think that it was missing some kind of _je ne sais quois_. Whatever that was. It sounded good, like the kind of thing an erudite person would say, and so he liked it. But yes, the uniform - he couldn't help but feel that it was not quite fulfilling his full officerial potential. He stared hard at his reflection, frowning, trying to decide what would make it just that little bit _more_. He should probably consult his books on military strategy. Consulting the other denizen of the room - who was flopped on his bunk like a beached pufferfish, sipping beer out of a can and watching Rimmer with absentminded interest - was unlikely to yield any kind of helpful input. "Do you know what your problem is, Lister?" Rimmer sniffed, feeling Lister's eyes on him.

"I don't care what you think my problem is, Rimmer." Lister munched on a crisp.

He merely _thought_ he didn't care, Rimmer was certain. He could not understand why a man with so little to support it would have such indefatigable self-esteem. It was wholly undeserved. On some level, Rimmer was certain, Lister knew that, and so Rimmer tossed him these scraps of potential self-improvement now and then. "Your problem is that you have no willpower. None! That's why you're such a gormless hippie. That's why you're so fat. You never exercise."

Lister giggled - a noise that sent shivers down Rimmer's holographic spine. "Rimmer, you can't run half a mile without gettin' winded. The only reason you weren't fat when you was alive is because the blokes on zed shift stole yer food all the time. And now yer bee keeps you lookin' however you want to look."

Ah, now _that_ was a thought. Rimmer could look however he wanted to, couldn't he? He was a hologram! He stroked his chin and stared at his reflection thoughtfully. He would have to look into bee control. He could remake himself! Not that he wasn't a fine slab of man already, he hastened to reassure himself as self-hatred pricked at him - but even the Mona Lisa could use a little touchup here and there. He would make himself a little beefier. Maybe a little older. It would suit him well. He'd look more like Frank.

"Yeah, we all know how much willpower yeh have," Lister said, popping another crisp in his mouth and chewing with his mouth open. "We saw when yeh took my body. A lot of smeggin' willpower yeh had, then! No exercie, no fit eatin'. Fatty food and cigars and..." Lister made an exaggerated shiver, "I don't want ta know what else."

Rimmer spun on his heel. "And just what is that supposed to mean?"

Lister flopped back on his bunk. "Nothing..."

"Don't try to pass that off as 'nothing'! You were accusing me of touching your penis when I was you!" Rimmer pointed at Lister. What an insinuation!

"Just forget it, Rimmer..." Lister sighed.

"I will certainly _not_ forget it, miladdio. The very idea!" He shook his head and turned back to the mirror. He wondered how his uniform would look red - and it turned red. Smeg, was it this easy to change? He rather liked the look of that color on himself, he had to admit.

Behind him, Lister flopped onto his back with an aggravated sigh. Rimmer ignored him and concentrated on trying to alter his body in pleasing ways. That smeghead was so full of... something ridiculous to be full of. It was all his fault, after all. Brain chemistry was brain chemistry, after all, and so while Rimmer had been in Lister's body, he had been subjected to that twat's strange, heightened drives - for food, for smoking, for saunas, for everything. All the proof that Rimmer needed of how little willpower Lister had. Really, the number of times Rimmer had been tempted to touch himself when he was in Lister's body! It was shameful.

Rimmer made his shirt disappear so he could better see the alterations he was making to himself. By an effort of _will_. Yes, he had willpower, and Lister didn't. Stuff that in your cigarette and smoke it, he thought with suppressed glee.


End file.
